The Question
by Robyn Hood
Summary: Little Kurt Wagner is plagued by an unanswerable question. Cuteness abounds.


"Kurti, are you almost done in there?"

"Almost!" Little Kurt Wagner called from his place the on toilet in his family's small trailer. He did his best thinking there, and right now, he needed every advantage he could get. He had a problem that was perplexing his small mind, and no amount of playing, no amount of LEGO-building, and no amount of tree-climbing could distract him from it. It was of all-importance that he figure this out.

"Your sister needs to go potty, so you'd better hurry up!" His mother called from the kitchen.

Kurt sighed and heaved himself off of the toilet, pulling his trousers up and washing his tiny, three-fingered hands. His thinking time had been cut short! Dismayed, he found his mother and asked her to help him button his trousers.

"You were in there awhile," she commented. "Are you sick?"

"No." He answered absently. Truth be told, he hadn't even relieved himself. He just needed the magic of the Thinking Throne. Once his trousers were buttoned and zipped, as his awkward fingers still had trouble with them, he wandered outside, the question still puzzling him.

How do you tickle someone?

He took a seat on his tiny folding chair, just his size, sitting outside their trailer, with his hands propping up his drooping face. He'd tried tickling himself, but it hadn't worked. No matter how hard he tried to imitate the motions his mother's hands made when she tickled him, he just couldn't do it. He wondered if it was because his hands were so different.

So he'd tried using his tail, but it didn't work either. Not even when he tried his most ticklish spots, under his chin, under his arms, or his sides. None had rendered any tickling sensation.

Answers still evaded him. Was tickling something only adults knew how to do? Would he learn when he got older? He was about to give up entirely when an idea struck him. Why didn't he just _ask_ how to tickle someone?

Rejuvenated by his revelation, he got up and bounded joyfully to his mother's best friend's trailer. His mama was busy, so he figured he would ask the next best person: Frau Svetta.

Frau Svetta was more of an aunt to Kurt and his siblings than just their mother's friend. She was their most frequent babysitter and often helped Margali out, as the poor woman struggled to raise three kids, keep house, and run a circus on her own. And, best of all, Frau Svetta was an adult, so there was _no doubt_ she knew how to properly tickle.

Kurt stopped at her door and knocked, waiting politely for an answer as he had been taught. Oh, he so hoped she was home! He needed answers desperately! Luckily for him, she opened the door.

"Hello Kurt," she greeted him with a warm smile. It wasn't odd for Margali's kids to drop by. She had an assortment of old costumes, clothes, and scarves that they loved to come play dress-up with, though it was a bit strange for only one to come. Usually, they came in pairs to play, but often it would be all three. "What can I do for you?" She asked anyway.

Kurt looked up at the older woman seriously. "How do you tickle someone?" He asked, point-blank.

Svetta's eyebrows raised and she couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. Oh, Margali would hear about this one. It was too cute to go unshared. She smiled as she crouched down to his level, wondering where the question came from. "Like this!" She reached out and pulled him in close, her fingers finding their way to his underarms, sides, and belly as she tickled him.

He squealed with laughter, squirming in reflex to the sensation, his tiny tail flailing about behind him.

Finally, Svetta stopped to let him breathe. "Does that help?" She asked.

Breathing hard, Kurt nodded and turned to leave without another word, a goofy grin still plastered on his face.

Svetta stood up, a smile on her own face, and watched him go. She laughed at the thought of what had just happened. Kids really did say the darnedest things. Again she wondered what prompted Kurt to ask such a thing. Shaking her head, she went back inside.

Kurt made his way back home, slightly more satisfied. He was all seriousness once again, contemplating the knowledge just bestowed upon him. Though being tickled was always fun, it really hadn't answered his question of _how_ tickling worked, but he figured he had it worked out anyway. Tickling was an _adult_ thing, and when he grew up, he would be able to tickle too.


End file.
